


Infliction: Epilogue

by pornographicrainbowlegs



Series: Infliction [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brother Feels, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 01:11:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pornographicrainbowlegs/pseuds/pornographicrainbowlegs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean have a long overdue conversation.</p><p>Epilogue time :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Infliction: Epilogue

“Well that was weird,” Sam actually says aloud as he watches Lucifer’s puddle sort of…evaporate.

He makes a face before glancing around the room. “So, how do I get out of here?” he asks the room, brushing his hands on his pants and stepping gently over the loose papers scattered across the ground. Making his way through the archway to Bobby’s kitchen reveals a bright red neon Exit sign above Bobby’s back door.

“Convenient,” Sam shrugs and puts his hand on the knob, stepping through.

Sam feels groggy, and much more horizontal than he’d been just seconds ago. “Dean?” he sighs, wanting to rub his forehead to ease a painful headache that has flared up in the last few moments since regaining consciousness. His shoulders ache and throb worse than his head, so he aborts the motion before he even begins.

“Sammy?” Dean calls, immediately rushing to Sam’s side and pulling his brother into a hug.

“Ow! Dean, shoulders, ow,” Sam reminds, clenching himself rigid as though that would protect him from some of the pain.

“Deal with it,” Dean grumbles, pulling himself back out of the hug with his hands still upon Sam’s shoulders to get a good look at his brother. “You okay, man? What happened after we left? You finally get that devil off your back?”

“Pretty sure,” Sam replies.

“Yeah, well, considering our circumstances, I’d like a little better than ‘pretty sure’,” Dean requests, turning to look at Castiel. “Cas, is Sammy good? He shake Luci?”

“I’d have to touch his soul to be sure,” Cas deadpans, walking closer to the bed into Sam’s field of vision, reaching towards Sam’s chest.

“Okay, really pretty sure. Just take my word on it for now, you can make me scream uncle sometime when I’m not in pain Vicodin can’t even touch.”

“Very well, Sam.” Cas nods and turns on his heels before disappearing in a flutter of wings.

There’s a brief, uncomfortable silence before Dean moves to the bedside table to grab a bottle of pills. He shakes two into his hand and holds them out for Sam to take. His shoulders are swollen and painfully tight as he stretches his arm out to take the pills from his brother, swallowing them dry.

“Lay on your belly,” Dean directs, waving his hand to indicate the blankets. “I wanna take a look how your shoulders are healing.”

Sam does as he’s told, grunting as he accidently puts some weight on his arms to ease himself down on his stomach. He feels Dean’s fingers as they trace a large circle around the stitches. “Doesn’t look infected,” he reports.

“Mmm,” Sam mumbles into the sheets. Exhaustion is hitting the younger Winchester. He closes his eyes, unable to keep them open, focusing instead on the gentle massage Dean’s hands have taken up.

“Sammy?” Dean murmurs, as if he isn’t sure Sam is still awake.

“Hmm?” Sam draws out long and low.

Dean continues kneading the knot below Sam’s shoulder blade, carefully and almost too soft to provide any relief. “Why’d you do it?” he finally asks. His tone is almost as soft as his fingers, providing room for Sam to ignore it.

Sam shifts, causing Dean’s fingers to still and pull away. “No, keep going, feels nice,” Sam requests, looking up over his shoulder to Dean’s face in earnest. Dean nods, and returns his fingers; Sam settles. “Lucifer,” he starts, hesitating and wincing at the name before forcing the sentence forward, “gave them to me as a present the day Azazel fed me the demon blood. I’ve been a freak nearly as long as I’ve been alive.”

Sam pauses, waiting for the obligatory “You’re not a freak” speech. He’s grateful when it doesn’t come. Though, he does acknowledge that his admission isn’t a reason and continues. “He thought I was incomplete without them. He would punish me if I didn’t wear them.

“When I got out of the cage, I think he wanted to keep me afraid of my own head. Probably so I wouldn’t find the portal. But he kept ragging on about how I was undeserving of his _gift_.” Sam spits out the last word with viciousness. “I, uh, couldn’t take it anymore, I guess,” he finishes lamely with a shrug he immediately regrets.

“Why didn’t you just come to me?” Dean asks, again his voice as soft as his fingers that kept rubbing gently, now on Sam’s other shoulder. The question is not accusatory, coming off resigned, as if reminding Sam he always had someone to rely on.

“Dean,” Sam sighs. “That wall Death put up wasn’t enough to keep Lucifer away for even a day. How could you have helped?”

“We could have thought of something,” Dean raises his voice slightly. “You didn’t have to do _this_ ,” he articulates, punctuating it with a hand gesture towards Sam’s shoulders.

“You were horrified by them the first time, horrified by _me_ ,” Sam reminds his brother.

“Hold on, hold on. You seriously think that?” Dean sounds shocked. “Because none of it, _none of it_ , is true.” Dean leans forward and places his hand gently on Sam’s shoulder so the two can look directly at each other as he delivers his next words. “I could never be horrified by you. You’re my brother, there is nothing I care about more than you. I need you to see that. I’m begging you.” Dean’s eyes go very wide, fervently going about their pleading.

Sam looks back, reading Dean’s features carefully, wondering where along the line he’d misinterpreted Dean’s intentions. He’s been manipulated his whole life – Lucifer, Azazel, Ruby, his father… Everyone but Dean. Dean has been his constant, the one person he could count on. The realization strikes him unexpectedly strong, keeping all the words that would be appropriate for this situation at bay and bringing instead guilt that settles in the pit of his stomach. “I’m so sorry,” is the only thing he can force out, but it doesn’t sound nearly adequate enough. It doesn’t nearly make up for all of the wrongs he’s done. The demon blood, the secrets, the lies… Dean deserved better, deserves better.

“It’s okay, Sammy, you’re gonna be just fine,” Dean says, pulling Sam into his arms.

“Shoulders,” Sam wheezes, cutting some of the tension and chick flick out of the air.

Dean gives a hearty chuckle before releasing his brother. “We’ll figure it out, okay? Just like we always do.”


End file.
